


Common Ground

by diycosmology



Category: Bionicle - All Media Types
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 06:15:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29896845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diycosmology/pseuds/diycosmology
Summary: It turns out that Ahkmou and Matoro have more in common than Matoro assumed.
Kudos: 2





	Common Ground

Nuju had brought Matoro and Kopeke to Po-Koro to study their winning Kolhii team’s playstyle in the wake of their defeat, hoping that observation would help improve their performance next season. Kopeke had been elated when Nuju approved his request, not having expected the elder to take the sport so seriously, but Matoro knew that the Turaga were always secretly on the lookout for excuses to visit each other.  
Knowing that Matoro was aware of that, Nuju excused him when he said he didn’t wish to watch the other team practice, his reasoning being that he had just come along to translate and guide them through the wilderness he knew better than they did, and preferred to learn by first-hand experience, which he would gladly get with Kopeke once they were back on their home field. Thankfully, Kopeke had a decent enough grasp of Nuju’s enigmatic way of speaking to get by and was too shy to be forthcoming with questions that would elicit more complex responses anyway.  
Though Matoro spent much of his free time at home scaling the drifts and sledding away from town, it wasn’t often he found himself in a different village and eschewed the scenery in favor of what the village itself had to offer. Po-Koro’s famed bazaar had recently been formally disbanded, but almost every merchant still sold from their homes, so Matoro poked his head into every hut, curious to see if the resident had anything they’d like to show off. He did accidentally intrude on non-salesmen a few times, but most of them were glad to chat with a foreigner anyway.  
After some time, he had made his way to the village’s front gate, carved in the image of a massive maskless Matoran head, where the nearby Ahkmou, who had recently had his merchant privileges restored, couldn’t let the opportunity to try and rope in a customer pass him by. From his doorway, he waved vigorously to catch the Ko-Matoran’s attention. “Hey, ice spirit! I didn’t think you could stand to be away from your Turaga.”  
Tales true and false about Ahkmou had spread across the island like plague-infected Kolhii balls ever since the infected Kolhii ball incident. Matoro knew more details than most thanks to bearing witness to many of the Turaga’s private meetings, and even knowing the severity of the offense, Matoro was surprised that Ahkmou’s own community seemed to still be avoiding him, as evidenced by the absence of activity in his radius.  
Matoro hesitated to respond to the call, but he trusted Onewa’s handling of the situation enough to give him a chance and walked over, following Ahkmou inside after he gestured to do so. “Turaga Nuju won’t have much to say about the Kolhii game the others won’t understand, so I’m enjoying a break.”  
Ahkmou straightened out his display of goods proudly displayed on the shelf in the back of his home, his well-stocked shelf the only thing in it besides his bed tucked under a window. “I called you over for a reason. We Po-Koronians may be the leaders in island tourism, but we still don’t get many visitors. Takua, Kapura, and Nobua are our only regulars, but their tastes aren’t very reflective of popular opinion.”  
Matoro had a fondness for each Matoran Ahkmou had mentioned that some others seemed to lack, but he also knew that Ahkmou’s observation was unquestionably true. He nodded.  
“Hahli and Macku recently passed through for their Kolhii match. Their presences were enlightening to how my selection is perceived by those who are more… rational than those three, even if only by a marginal degree. So would a level-headed Ko-Matoran like yourself even be interested in anything here?” He asked, framing his supply with his hands, which was an assortment of Kolhii balls, air bladders, bamboo chutes, a selection of tools made of fiber, a curated array of others’ pottery.  
Matoro inspected the offerings carefully, giving each one the attention he felt it deserved. After some time he pointed out a small container made in the image of the Toa canisters that had washed up not too long ago. “I like that one, I already have a lightstone holder just like it that could use a friend.”  
Ahkmou seemed ready to make a transaction right away, but Matoro stopped him. “If it was more than just one sale you were looking for, though, I'm not sure I'm the one you should be asking for advice. I wouldn’t exactly call myself your standard Ko-Matoran.”  
“Oh, sure,” Ahkmou agreed. “You may be reasonable, but you always went a bit against the grain.”  
The comment gave Matoro pause—like most Matoran from different villages, they rarely saw each other, not out of an antisocial disinterest, but because traveling between villages had always been too dangerous for frequent visits, which left him wondering how Ahkmou could possibly assume that he felt out of place from his brothers when almost all of what he said in public were Nuju’s words, not his. That reminded Matoro how much he missed the island beneath the surface, where even if Matoran attitudes towards those of other elements had been the reverse of the amicable attitude that had been cultivated on the surface, it wasn’t so life-threatening to leave home, but he was quick to expunge that thought from his mind. “I can ask Kopeke later if you’d like.”  
“You’d do that? I figured you crystal tower types were too high and mighty for petty favors…”  
Matoro was off-put again, reminded of the crystal Knowledge Towers below them. Even though the term crystal generally referred to stones, the towering, icy Ko-Koro temple technically fit the definition too. Despite that, the real Knowledge Towers were highly exclusive as Ahkmou had referenced, and the Ko-Koro temple was open to all, even if most didn’t ultimately end up feeling welcome. It was almost painfully obvious to which Ahkmou could be referring.  
Matoro gave him the benefit of the doubt regardless since his Matoran siblings did occasionally recall fragmented memories of their past without knowing their full context. “I very much enjoy doing favors when I can.”  
“That's so messenger-like, running back and forth at the beck and call of others, and outside of your usual duties to boot… I guess I always figured you’d be too studious for others’ busywork.”  
Matoro narrowed his eyes, focused his Kanohi’s scope, and zoomed in and out, doing all he could to make sense of the situation he’d found himself in. He wanted to dismiss his feelings of paranoia as just feelings, but he couldn’t imagine Ahkmou didn’t understand what he was saying any longer. “Do you remember what I did before I assisted Turaga Nuju?”  
“You are perceptive, aren’t you? I guess that mask isn’t just for show.”  
Matoro was never a firm believer that one’s choice of Kanohi necessarily revealed anything about their character, even if the Turaga and most Matoran did. “You remember. Yes or no. Tell me.”  
“Yes. He never bothered to tell you about me? I guess you can’t fully trust your master.”  
As with apparently everything Akhmou said, Matoro took offense to that. He would gladly refer to Nuju as a master of many things, but never of Matoro himself. If anything, Turaga served the Matoran, not the other way around. Having heard such an absurd remark, Matoro shuddered to imagine what Ahkmou might do if he were Turaga. “He never promised to disclose everything. The Turaga have reasons for their secrecy. If you’re trying to break my trust in him, give up.”  
“He’s a fool if he never prepared you for this. The only two Matoran who remember Metru Nui—“  
“Shh!” Matoro hushed him instinctively, even though they were far from anyone’s earshot.  
“—It was easy to recognize. You always looked like you carried such a heavy burden, it could only be the same as mine, even if it weighs on us differently.”  
Matoro felt uneasy in the core of his being, both bothered that what was soul-crushing to him was just a nuisance to Ahkmou, and anxious that Ahkmou might do something about it. What, exactly, Matoro couldn’t say, as he was never good at even just imagining not having good intentions. He collected himself the best he could. This was obviously something the Turaga knew about, and they’d been keeping Ahkmou in line so far. “They aren’t omnipotent, Ahkmou. No one is, not even the Great Spirit. They make mistakes.”  
“I guess I just expected more transparency from the ones in charge of everything. How silly of me.”  
For once, Matoro agreed. It pained him how much the Turaga kept from the Matoran. Just because they might never be able to return to the city didn’t mean they couldn’t know about its existence, when the stars in the sky and the boundless ocean were in clear view but no Matoran had ever dreamed of venturing to them when the confines of the island offered all they had ever wanted. Even if the city was still in ruins despite the Rahaga rebuilding it for nearly a millennia, Matoran were hard workers who would gladly take up its reconstruction if they so desired. Countless times he had tried to convince them, but they were beyond stubborn, so his attempts to change their minds had gradually thinned out over time.  
Even if Matoro didn’t find Ahkmou to be very pleasant, he felt that he might have been the only Matoran in a very long time to find any common ground with him, and he wasn’t about to squander that connection. “That’s not silly. You’re right. The others deserve the whole truth.”  
For the first time in their exchange, Ahkmou smiled not out of satisfaction that he had nearly made a sale or that his vindictive attacks had landed, but that they had agreed. “You wanted the canister, right? It’s on the house. Let me wrap it for you.”  
Nuju and Kopeke had finished their spectating and catching up with Onewa, who was fine with Matoro’s absence, reasoning that he had never truly understood Nuju even before he had taken up the Rahi language and never would, but was glad to see him anyway. The duo had tracked Matoro down to head home, hovering outside the doorway wordlessly. As Ahkmou handed Matoro his goods, he said, “Well, if it isn’t the Turaga in question.”  
Nuju lacked the full context, but was dissatisfied with Ahkmou’s tone and clicked and whistled in response, which Matoro relayed. “Turaga Nuju wants you to know that Turaga Onewa has been saying good things about you, so you shouldn’t push it.”  
Ahkmou frowned, ever-resentful of being told what to do by ones he didn’t voluntarily follow. He watched as Matoro made his way to the door. “Are you all heading off?”  
Two of the three Ko-Koronians nodded. Having not forgotten his favor, Matoro turned to quietly ask Kopeke, too wary to even nod his head with the others, what he would hypothetically like to see available on Akhkmou’s stand, using his body as a shield to offer as much privacy as possible.  
Matoro turned back around once he had gotten an answer. “Kopeke thinks you should sell ice carving tools. He goes through many.”  
A Ta-Matoran metalworker would likely make more durable tools than any of the stone-savvy Po-Matoran, but the fire region’s temperature was more difficult for Ko-Matoran to endure, and even if he hadn’t thought of that reasoning, Ahkmou would gladly usurp their business given the chance. “Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind.”  
With that, the Ko-Koronians were off. As they started the long journey back to their village, Ahkmou followed them through his doorway, not yet done with them. “I guess I’ll be seeing you all at the championship match, then?”  
“If we’re all invited.” Matoro said over his shoulder after listening to Nuju’s answer, reminding Ahkmou that they were one of the losing teams. “The Turaga have yet to decide if it’s worth endangering that many just to spectate.”  
“Oh. Gotta miss Akilini, right? You didn’t have to be invited to those matches.”  
Nuju turned and glared, leaving Kopeke confused, the name of the long-forgotten sport failing to register with him. Even from a distance, Ahkmou could feel the intensity of Nuju’s displeasure at the revelation that the only two Matoran who remembered Metru Nui had found each other, but after receiving a glare like that, Ahkmou was sure to stop stirring up trouble in that department.  
Matoro smirked. “Yeah. Right.”


End file.
